Hi… It’s Nice to Meet You

Savannah

“I want to know what in the Sam hell a Madis is doing ass-out in my bar with two fucking bullet holes being doctored.”

“Dad, I can explain.”

Letting go of my hand, Damon stands; I look at Sunshine and mouth ~help~, to which he replies with a wait sign.

“You better start, boy,” the man somewhere behind me growls in a tone that holds reverence and authority.

“Savannah and I…she got shot jumping in front of me. She took it for me. I called in to Daxon and Dane. They’re cleaning it up. It’s not like I could let her go to the hospital.”

“I wonder why, boy. Remind me, why exactly could this girl not go to the hospital?”

The gruff in this man’s voice might even make me shake.

“She’s a Madis,” Damon whispers like he doesn’t want me to hear.

“A GODDAMN MADIS, DAMON!”

Sunshine looks down like he is afraid for me.

“Why the FUCK were you even around one?”

Hard silence.

“Answer me, boy!”

That’s it, I’m not letting Damon get talked down to because of my last name. Sitting ass-out or not, this is done.

“Excuse me, sir, down here.” I turn on my side as much as I can, looking behind me at the biker king.

If I wasn’t in pain and pissed off I would say the man looks like he could be my daddy.

His light steel-green eyes are like something from another world. For a second he stalls me with the hate in his stare, but I shake out of it.

“Please forgive me for the rude interruption, but I am confused, sir. Are we in some kind of Hatfield McCoy situation I am unaware of?

“I may be a Madis, Savannah Madis, it’s nice to meet you. But I’m unaware of anything my family has done to anger you.”

Damon steps in front of his dad when he takes a slow, dramatic step towards me, ass out still.

“Besides you being a little pig in your pig family? Oh, I don’t know either.”

He spews venom.

“Oh right, so I’m supposed to judge you by your last name and form an unbreakable opinion based on the fact you’re the Henley biker king?”

Damon’s knocked down on his knee and held back by two of the men that look to be the king’s brothers.

Maybe Damon’s uncles?

“I have heard about the smartass shit-talking little Madis bitch—you have proceeded your reputation.”

He walks to my side and glares down; the heat could light me on fire, he could spontaneously get me to combust.

“Charmed, I’m sure. I can’t say I’ve heard much about the biker king. I don’t waste my time with gossip, but hey do you, ~Your Majesty~.

“I apologize for the circumstances in which we meet, but I didn’t have much choice.”

I hold my hand out for him to shake, but he looks like he would rather cut it off.

“You saying my son kidnapped you as well?”

His eyes are so intense, not in the same way Damon’s are, but like he has a steel gate secured in the middle.

If the eyes are the window to the soul, then this man has it blocked.

His black hair has salty white strands sprinkled in, his matching goatee with one or two white hairs.

His broad shoulders like Damon’s, the same build just a little bulky on top.

The all blacked-out outfit snugs his biceps, and the spurs on his black boots have an ornate draw to them that makes me want to stare a little longer and really get a good look to figure it out, see what the design is.

I thought maybe he could be the devil when I saw every one of his offspring look way too good, and all like literal clones with one or two things to show some type of individuality.

I can’t believe that is all DNA, but even with the coldness in this man’s eyes, I don’t think he is as bad as what he wants the world to see. He is not what he seems.

Just like Damon.

“No, sir. I got on his bike willingly. I also took both shots for him. I am Damon’s friend.”

A lie, but that’s between Damon and me.

The biker king scoffs.

“Like fuck you are,” he spits.

“With all due respect, sir, you don’t get to tell me if I’m his friend or not. My actions do, I don’t know if you can see, but my ass has a hole in it, a new one.

“My hip shouldn’t but it does as well. Which I gladly took for my ~friend~. Who I actually was in the middle of arguing with when I saw the gun.”

Silence hangs around us like a part of the bar itself.

Like one of the barstools, a part of the music, or hanging out in the booths.

The look between king Lucien and I, well it’s one for the record books.

He doesn’t know that I’m a goddess, though, and will never bend to the will of a simple peasant king.

“And what will you be asking for in return?” The king points down and Doctor Dick starts stitching me up again.

“For what?” I wince as the needle hooks the skin and I feel the thread being pulled through.

“For this.” He pushes on the wound of my hip and makes me cry out.

“Oww! Stop that, asshole! I don’t want anything from you.” I slap his wrist, which makes my doctor stop and steady his hand.

“Right. What do you want?” He shoves his finger into the open wound and curls it.

“Stop it!” I pull on his hand, but he prods the inner meat harder until I can’t breathe from the pain and let another scream out.

“What do you want?!” he barks into my ear.

“For you to fucking stop, you deaf son of a bitch!”

King Lucien wraps one hand around my throat and the other wiggles around the bullet hole, making it bleed again.

“What do you want for this?”

I can hear Damon fighting, even Sunshine is being restrained by two guys.

“Nothing!”

King Lucien laughs coldly and tightens his grip around my throat.

“Then why would you step in front of a loaded gun? Don’t lie to me.”

He says it calmly and lets each word roll off his tongue like this is the easiest thing in the world.

Loosening his hold, he lets me talk, since all I can make is a grunting sound.

“It’s just something I do.” I gulp in a breath and feel him twist his nails into my skin as he takes back up cutting off my air supply.

My hands pull at his wrist. I hate this feeling of weakness.

“Why?” His face close to mine, I can feel his question hit my cheek.

Fanning my skin.

Again he loosens his grip.

“I will always protect the people I care about,” I rasp, my voice croaking in an ugly whisper of the truth.

The king lets a cold smile slip across his dry lips. The look in his eyes says something that I know will be a pain in the ass to deal with.

Pun intended.

He lets go of me, his grip releasing and his dirty finger coated in my blood pulling out of my flesh wound to walk away.

Sunshine is let go of, the man holding him tossing him away.

The dickhead doctor tells Sunshine what to do as they both pack my bleeding hip as he finishes the stitching on my once flawless cheek.

I regain control over my breathing and control my anger. I want to hop off the table and send this wannabe king a sharp right hook that has him cowering down like he should be.

Before I can settle my racing heart, Damon is back at my side, more pissed off than I have ever seen him.

And that’s from every one of our encounters where I have hit Damon myself or sassed off.

The cold rag that was once used for my forehead now gently on the base of my neck and slowly dabbing up, easing the tenderness and the burn.

“I’m sorry.” His full lips in my ear.

One hand in my hair, the other tending to my throat.

I try to relay a simple, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

But my voice scratches and breaks.

“Shush, Shortcake. Don’t talk yet.”

My Angel.

We are in some deep shit now.

But it is looking like we're in this together.